Blue Eyes Brown No Substitution
by ThePointGirl
Summary: James Cobb develops a slow burning crush on Arthur. Trouble is...what happens when people start finding out? Who doesn't help? Who gets protective? James/Arthur.
1. Read All About It!

**Title:** Blue Eyes Brown (No Substitution)**  
><strong>

**Prompt/Summary: **+ James/Phillipa develops a crush on Arthur from the inception_kink_meme**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters here except some of James' friends (Johnny + Harry)**  
><strong>

**Notes:** My first attempt at writing an older James Cobb :)

**Chapter 1:** Read All About It! (James's POV)

July 25th

WELCOME BACK BLONDIE _VENICE

I stared at the screen and smirked at my username. It was Johnny's nickname for me: Blondie ('you know Blondie suits you, you like the music and your hair matches'). That paired with my favourite holiday destination: Venice.

It didn't take very long to think up the username, and BlondieVenice had a lot of responses and friends on the blog. It had been my idea to create a blog for a project in English, however I got addicted to writing entries. Scrolling up to the last entry I read through it and sighed to myself. I was sat in the living room with my laptop on my knees, my sister was at dance class and my Dad and friends were having a drink at the local bar.

_It seems pretty funny that I'm someone who everyone – apparently – loves to have around, and yet I'm sitting alone at home._

I typed flawlessly, not stopping for a moment. I wasn't sure when I was able to type fast. Thinking about it, it must have been when I was trying to type an entry when Dad was driving; having the ability to type quickly whilst roaring down the highway is skill. I scrunched up his eyes: I was deviating again. So I began to type in the entry box once again.

_I don't know whether I'm being stupid, or just a teenager, either way I'm screwed. I'm barely a teenager and I've got a crush. A stupid-stupid crush. I'm not talking about poster on the wall Robert Pattison (what a schmuck – I feel like Robert De Niro when I say that) kinda thing, I'm talking about bang your head on the locker door type of thing. The weird thing is, is that I'm not even sure it's a crush. It's someone who's outside of my social circle who I see a lot and get along with. Maybe I'm mistaking a different friendship with a glassy eyed talk like a goldfish attitude. That's not what happens by the way. It's not even been going on that long, it's just enough for me to notice. His name is_

I stopped.

I heard keys in the front door, my hands hovering over the keys listening to the muffled voices. One was Dad's voice, and the other sounded a lot like Eames. Then again how many English people do I know? I looked back at the screen and - flash reading - I rolled my eyes at the entry. A thing about the blog was, that other people could send feedback and comment and message other people. I had had a bit of interest in my own entries, a few curious about the 'person in question'.

'James, you still up?' That was Dad.

'Yeah Dad it's only eight. I'm a teenager, but I'm not that tired that I need to sleep like a baby!' I called back and heard footsteps. The kitchen was joined pretty much directly to the living room, with a doorway (no door) and a long walk. I was sitting on the couch that had its back to the start of the kitchen area. The voices became decidedly clearer and less bunched, as I realised people had come through.

'How are you James. Did you get the report done for Mrs Marsden?' Dad asked and I smirked.

'Yup' I shut the laptop screen down and set it on the side. Getting up on my knees, I swivelled around elbows resting on the back of the couch. 'All Art History and what not – very long and pointless considering that I'm not doing Art History next term'

'It's all good knowledge, you told me you preferred it than doing straight history' Dad stated and Eames walked over, ruffling my hair. I ducked away and nodded.

'Yeah, I know. I do. But still' I muttered.

'Arthur? Do you want a drink?' Dad said loudly and I watched the door.

'Is he still on the phone?' Eames asked my dad and it was apparent as Arthur walked in, nodding to Dad for a drink, his phone attached to his ear. I made eye contact with Arthur, who was muttering 'mhmms' and other sounds of attention into the receiver end, smiled at him.

He was dressed – like always – smart. He was dressed in black slacks and a fitted white shirt with the collar open and a thin deep red jumper. There was me sat in a baggy Lakers t –shirt and my blue full-length PE pants.

'Yes, I will… You'd think I'd forget your birthday. I'd have to been a complete idiot to do that… Okay' Arthur's voice fluctuated, and I watched as the person on the other end of the line continued to talk. The call ended not long after that, and Arthur groaned.

Eames had put himself on the couch next to me, forearm on the armrest. Arthur dropped onto the smaller two-seater couch next to the one I sat on. Both he and Eames were holding beers Dad had given them. 'How have you been James?' Arthur asked taking a gulp of his beer.

'Good. I got a ninety-seven in my exam. The one you helped me to revise for' I replied and hitched a grin, Arthur's eyebrows knotted together and the evened out as he remembered.

'Tourism and Social Climate wasn't it' and I nodded, surprised that he remembered the title of the module. 'Nice work, you needed a little bit of prodding. I went to college with people studying that as a degree course'

I looked down at my laptop, and re opened it as Dad appeared and sat himself next to Arthur.

'What are you doing James?' Eames asked nodding to the laptop and I glanced from the open blog entry with a warning of a time limitation, to Eames' curious gaze.

'Oh, just some homework due next week. I got both musical practice and sports beginning tomorrow. Best get it all done now, right?' which wasn't a complete lie, because I had started and finished my homework for next week and the file was up on the screen behind the browser, but what I was looking at was the blog.

'James, have you heard from Phillipa?' Dad asked, and I saw him take a quick look at the clock on the wall.

'Yeah, she text me about an hour ago saying that her dance teacher wasn't giving up until they were all perfectly in time. In other words she might be home soon' I said and not a second later, the sound of a car horn and young voices. Dad got up again and walked out. Few minutes later and I heard my sister's voice and Dad's mingling. She sounded tired, but Phillipa is dedicated to her performing. Arthur and Eames were talking about cars, of all things, as Eames flicked through my F1 magazine.

'My favourite's Maserati Mc12' I said lightly, not taking my eyes off of the glaring white screen, and Eames laughed.

'Boy racer, good god whatever you do never get in to a pile up. Your Dad will kill anyone involved'

'I'll try not to. I've got a few more years left until I can _legally_ drive' I said over the laptop, hearing Arthur chuckle, I looked up again. He was looking down at the bottle in his hand. My sister's footsteps climbed the stairs and her door shut sharply overhead.

'You say legally…'

'Stop influencing my son. That's my job'

I bit my lip and made a try at finishing the blog. How much, was too much to put in? I deleted 'His name is'.

'Phillipa okay?' Arthur asked and Dad smiled.

'Oh she's fine. Grumpy, but fine'

'I'm not surprised, she has just had to endure a three-hour dance session'

'Well unlike you Eames she's fifteen, you are…'

'Arthur your comedy gets funnier by the moment' Eames said sarcastically, his accent accentuated. I felt tightness in my chest and it travelled, and before I knew it I was yawning. Was I really that tired? I suppose I have done quite a lot today.

'I think I'm gonna head up' I saved the entry in a folder and shut my laptop's lid with a click. Easing myself off of the couch in one motion I picked my laptop up so it was under one arm like a book.

'Have a goodnight' Dad said as I walked past.

'You too. See you in the morning' and both Arthur and Eames issued their goodnight's.

Walking out of the living room and through the kitchen area, I slipped into the hallway and took to the stairs. There was a light on in Phillipa's room and I could hear her moving about.

As I got to my room I scanned it, and then placed my laptop on the floor next to my bed. It's there so if I wake up in the middle of the night, I can do something instead of waiting to fall asleep again. I changed into a pair of old boxer shorts and white t –shirt.

It took all of ten minutes before I actually got into bed, as I have a habit of getting a bit distracted. Slipping under the covers it wasn't that long before I was asleep.

I'm not sure what time I did actually fall into full sleep, but I was blinking awake at my garishly green alarm clock that declared it was 3:22 am precisely. I groaned and rolled onto my back squinting at the ceiling.

I thought for a moment before bending sideways, so half of my body was out of the bed, and reached for my laptop. Licked my lips and tasted a tang in my mouth of sleep and me. The glass of water Dad had put on my bedside table (every night since I was sick that time) was warm, so I sat up again and swung my legs out of bed. Taking the glass in hand I walked – well, trudged really but trudging quietly so not to wake other people – to my door and downstairs.

Carefully, I worked my way down the steps - one carpeted step at a time. Doing that reminded me of summer camp five years ago: when everyone snuck out for a midnight feast in the halls. It was dark, as the panelling was painted and it was three something in the morning.

Making my way to the kitchen I stopped short, noticing the middle light on. The middle light was hardly ever used as neither me; Phillipa or Dad needed the kitchen for a long period of time in the night. Moving forward a bit more, I noticed that someone was sitting at the table. At first I thought it was Dad, but blinking got me realising the frame was smaller. It was Arthur.

Arthur was sat in the chair nursing, what seemed to be a cup of something in his hand on the table. Like me he wore an old worn out t- shirt, except his was a university one, but I couldn't read the logo from where I was. I hovered for a moment, then feeling like a complete idiot I moved. Arthur looked up, spotting me. Guess I'm not as good as the Green Goblin, should work on that. I smiled – well if you can smile this early in the morning then that's what it was. Arthur looked at me for a good second or two; the light (what of it) highlighted his skin.

'What are you doing up?' he asked softly but quite sternly, sounding a lot like Dad actually. I held up the glass of water and nodded to it, as if the demonstration answered the question. Arthur seemed to get it. I moved over to the sink and refilled my glass, the water dribbling out. I sipped a bit of the water and swivelled, leaning on the sink. Without asking I went and sat down on one of the chairs next to him. Arthur didn't appear to mind my intruding on his one man party. That's good. I peered into his cup and frowned.

'What's that?' I asked and he looked down as if reminding himself.

'It's tea - raspberry tea' he replied and I grimaced.

'You and Phillipa both like that stuff. Dad and me can't stand it' I stated and then offered 'Can't sleep?' Arthur snorted a small smirk.

'I can, my brain won't permit me to' and I grinned.

'Want company?'

'You need your sleep'

'Meaning 'I don't want you here, quit bugging me and go to sleep'' I said and the shifted my chair.

'No. I'm simply saying that you need your sleep'

'So do you Arthur' I said lowly.

'I'm the adult here, you don't have to worry about me' and he knocked back the rest of that raspberry tea and made a face.

'If I show you something, can you not tell Dad?' and I saw a flicker pass over his eyes. It was suspicion, concern, and worry all at once. I couldn't help but chuckle tiredly.

'It's nothing like that. It's something I do if I can't sleep' well _one _of the things I do if I can't sleep was more accurate but leave me alone it's early.

I got up heavily and went to the kitchen cupboards. I hooked it with my finger from the back of all of the foodstuffs and bought it down. Then I got out two bowls and two spoons, and went back to the table. All the while Arthur had watched in curiosity, and when the packet was put in front him, amusement.

'Captain Crunch cereal?' he asked slowly.

'Yeah. I eat it dry, dunno why but it helps' I pushed a bowl and spoon towards him and filled my own bowl full.

'And Co-your Dad doesn't know this is in the back of the cupboard?' Arthur asked, his voice still that low smooth thing he's got, but a little rough with lack of sleep.

'Nope. Grandma gets it for me. She has done since I was about five…' but I trailed off as I saw Arthur stiffen. I didn't want to think about what was going through his head. 'Go on. I don't let just anyone share this you know' I wagered and he gave in. I grinned in triumph.

'I didn't think they still made this'

'Yeah. It's probably terrible for ya, but it tastes good' and Arthur filled his bowl. The familiar _clunky_ kind of sound that I heard with mine echoed as the cereal hit the bowl.

'I used to eat this for breakfast all the time when I was a kid. Always before little my league matches, I guess I believed it gave me super energy or special talent or luck…' but he couldn't finish because he began to laugh along with me.

'I can believe that. The commercials were crazy… always with that little kid…'

'In the white shirt… yeah' and we both began to eat. For a minute, the only sound was _crunch, crunch, and crunch._

'Good as you remember it?' I asked and there was a pause.

'Yes, I think so'

'Whose birthday was it?' I asked as a bit of information that my brain supplied me to keep talking was this big neon panda going _pick me pick me, I'm information you don't need and shouldn't have registered but hello._

It took Arthur a long hard look at me with a frown, before his head worked out what the hell I had just said. I wasn't at all surprised. Thank you brain, you're most helpful.

'Oh my, cousin's. She reminds me of Phillipa – but she's the youngest of us all'

'How does she remind you of Pippa?' and I knew she would kick me – hard – if she heard me call her that. Eh, she's asleep, what she don't know don't hurt. And I took another spoonful _crunch, crunch, crunch. _

'Always gets what wants' he said lightly and added another spoonful. My own stomach did a funny squirm, and I slid my bowl a bit away from me, knowing enough was enough. Clearly the fajitas were still in my system. Nice. Arthur fiddled with the bowl in his hand – having finished its contents – and looked at me.

'Finished?' he asked, gesturing at my bowl.

'Yup. Better get rid of the evidence' I said with a smirk and stood up, my whole body ached. I picked up the bowls and spoons the cereal packet. Putting the bowls and spoons in the sink I put the packet back to the back of the cupboard.

'I'll remember that next time' Arthur said and I grinned back. We efficiently (as efficiently as you can be at this time) rinsed and dried the bowls and spoons and put them away. Arthur then took care of his mug of raspberry tea. I took the steps there were to the table again and lifted my glass of water.

Then there was getting back upstairs. I went first and we got two steps up, like we were stuck in syrup we were that adamant to make no noise.

'It's like a covert mission this' I whispered to Arthur behind me.

'I think Stalag Luft 7 would have been easier' Arthur whispered back and my frame shook as I sniggered.

Finally making it to the top of the stairs and at the landing we both paused.

'I'll see you… in a however many hours' I whispered and a yawn pushed its way out of my body. Arthur nodded once, his way of saying 'message recieved and understood'.

'Have a good sleep'

'You too'

Arthur went into the guest bedroom and I went into my room. I looked at the clock that mocked my awakeness and then at my laptop.

I chose the laptop. Scooping it up from the floor I got back into bed. Plugging my blue ipod's headphones into my ears, I turned it on and put the the library on shuffle. I opened the screen of my laptop, and it came to life in blaring white light. I squinted, my eyes hurting. I reduced the glare and brought up the browser for the blog and began to type again. As I did so, I nodded along to the song that played.

Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit.

_I call him Captain A…_


	2. Uh oh, we're in trouble

29th July

If it's the smack of lockers shutting, it's the hum of Johnny singing behind me, and Harry telling him to shut it.

'What? I have a good voice?' Johnny countered but Harry, who pulled his polo shirt over his head, shook his hair out of his eyes and replied bitingly:

'Yes you may well do, but save it for the stage not the locker room'

'Oooh someone's touchy'

'My god, you two are like an old married couple' I muttered and lent my head against the cool metal of the locker. Pulling away my hair stuck to it from the static.

Johnny Peterson was London born teenager whose parents moved to America for the climate, food and education according to Johnny. His accent was still in tact, and formerly from a public school he had a posh English accent. The kinds of one you hear when American actors try to do English accents. He was a bubbly, happy person who charmed everyone around him. He was bi curious – meaning he flirted with anyone if they were attractive enough – and had had his share of 'flings'. I had got on instantly with Johnny because of his recklessness and his mischievous nature, which was not unlike mine. He was also quite creative, and used it in Drama, but he also followed rules when he needed to. Johnny and Harry bickered, but underneath they are very stable and close friends. I realised that neither seemed to have the ability to share that piece of information, and their bickering is more flirting if nothing else. Johnny, as I see it, gets a kick out of it.

'Feeling left out are we Jamsey?' Johnny smirked and I shot him a look, after a moment of thought.

'Oh don't mind me. I don't want to get in between what could be a scandalous love affair?'

'Have you been reading Mills and Boon again?' Harry asked, slipping on his converse.

Harry Brenton was an American through and through, although he said he had a Spanish grandmother or something once. I met Harry in fifth grade when the seating plan was re-arranged, and we became friends over many classes. Unlike Johnny I liked Harry for his modesty, humour and level – headedness. He also trumps me in History, Mathematics and Statistics, although we equal out in Science with Sociology. Harry prefers knowing exactly what is going on when dealing with problems, whereas Johnny and I are more flexible, and take life with what it swings at us with a bat. Harry is imaginative (although Johnny questions it) but he prefers admiring other peoples talent rather than explore his own.

'Oh you are funny. Real funny I'm dying with laughter. And stop calling me Jamesy' I added to Johnny who looked up at us, all wide-eyed and innocent.

'It's your name isn't it?'

'My name is James Dominic Cobb – not Jamesy' I growled and Johnny winked and all I could do _was_ growl at him, showing I was really not in the mood.

'I fancy a big plate of steak and fries' and I saw Harry shiver.

'All grease and fat. Blergh' I chuckled, Harry does not do greasy food. He keeps his body in shape, doing Martial Arts and Boxing, as well as in school sports. Harry would not be someone I would like to cross in a dark alley.

'You may not but I do. You two ready?' Johnny offered and got up, stretching. I nodded.

'Let's go' and we left the changing rooms, walking through the crowds of students milling in and out of classes. We got across East wing and passed the soccer field, slowly. I blinked up into the sun, and down to the green grass.

'I've been reading your blog' Johnny said and I froze for a second, but recovered looked at him. Johnny was similar size – if not, more accurately – shorter than me, with a wider build. 'Yeah, who's Captain A?'

Harry had kept quiet, I could tell he was listening; not wanting to miss anything. I wasn't sure whether to act dumb or not… it never fools either of them.

'It's Arthur isn't?' and what shocked me was that it was Harry's voice. I don't blush – that just does not happen. So when Harry raised an eyebrow at me, I rolled my eyes in reply. 'Well, A for Arthur' he prodded.

'He's so obvious' Johnny said to Harry as if I had suddenly ceased to exist 'Not from my social group. James – your group is the whole flipping school' Johnny said to me, he was absently playing with his blackberry.

'Why do you read it?' I asked, and knew that it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

'We don't want you hiding things from us Jamsey' again with the name, and this time it was directed with an arm slung over my shoulder.

'I'm not hiding anything. Harry, help' and I looked at the boy. This was when Harry Brenton became my solid wall, my back up, and my right hand man. Harry looked between us and then said:

'I read it too, so I can't really help you' and I scowled.

'Traitor' I muttered and Johnny pulled at my shoulder, indicating that we should carry on walking.

'You know… I can see why you have a crush on him' Johnny said thoughtfully and the urge to rail at him was major.

'You can' it wasn't a question, but I shifted my bag over my back so it was a more equal weight. We exited the school and turned left, waiting at the bus stop that had been put there for convenience (the school kids were lazy, not that I'm counting myself out of that).

'Yeah. I mean he's well dressed, smart, and pretty hot'

'I forget how much time you spend at my house. And it's not just that… '

'Really?' Harry sounded dubious so I shot him another look.

'Hey, he's the shallow one. Not me' I said poking Johnny hard in the chest. The boy yelped and stepped away from me.

'You're both as bad as each other' Harry said, leaning against the somewhat rigid bus stop sign.

'That maybe, but he's worse' I countered and huffed. Why was this conversation so difficult? 'Besides, I don't even know what's going on in my own head' I scratched my cheek.

'If you don't know the rest of the world is fucked. Which head are you talking about?' and I punched him playfully on the forearm as the bus turned up, letting its breaks sound. We got seats at the back, sitting in a three like we have done for years. It's habit now. Always in the same order as well. It goes Harry, me, Johnny. It's like they're my bodyguards. They'd be quite good bodyguards.

'You two coming round mine?' I asked tapping my photo along to the song playing on the bus radio. Bruno Mars' Count On Me.

'Yep' Harry and Johnny replied in unison.

'I need Harry's help for Sociology'

'What a surprise' Harry snarked, but he grinned afterwards.

'You can count on me like one, two, three I'll be there. And I know when I need it

I can count on you like four, three, two and you'll be there. 'Cause that's what friends

Are supposed to do' I sang and I stole Johnny's blackberry. He doesn't care people going through his phone. Saying that _'whatever's on there he wouldn't be ashamed to tell you anyway'_

'And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me. Everyday I will remind you' Harry joined in and laughed as Johnny sang very loudly and very out of tune. I went into his Facebook app and onto his news feed, where I began to type out a status. The bus jolted and jigged as it turned corners.

Johnny Peterson: With James Dominic Cobb & Harry Brenton singing Bruno Mars songs very loudly

I pressed the enter button, and handed the phone back to Johnny who took it (still singing mind, this time along to Runaway Baby) and put it in his pocket.

'So many eager young bunny's that I'd like to pursue. Now even now they eating out the palm of my hand, there's only one carrot and they all gotta share it'

Still Johnny.

I glanced at Harry who grinned evilly. These were the times that it's as if Harry can read my mind.

'Stop it. Sing properly' I shoved Johnny against the window. Which resulted in me being pushed back, knocking into Harry, who decided that _I_ was going to be used as a human stress ball.

'Hey, whose side are you on?' I accused but Harry just smirked at me. It had worked: Johnny had shut up. It seemed the driver was pleased to, there was a definite sigh from the front.

'He's on my side' Johnny said and winked. I rolled my eyes, hear we go again 'Aren't you pet?'

'Stop calling me that. Sarah gave me a really weird look because of you'

'Sure that was my fault?' Johnny asked innocently, Harry growled – baring teeth.

'Stop, you're angering the tiger' I warned but Johnny giggled. That's the only word that can be described as his eyes flicked from one to the other of us. Harry however, slumped further into the seat; his feet propped up by the seat in front. We were all wearing converses, I noticed. Harry's were pristine blue, mine were black and Johnny's were haggard white. Johnny was attached to them, and they were more grey than white. I squinted and something caught my eye.

'Johhny, why have you got Harry's name written on the side of your converse. I've heard of eternal love tattoos but that's just…' I couldn't carry on as I received a very hard whack on the arm.

'All I'm saying is it was a party, and I had had one too many shots of whatever it was, and thought that was a really good idea. How did I get my hands on a permanent marker pen?' the latter was asked to Harry.

'I gave it to you' Harry said simply.

'Thanks mate' Johnny said, gripping onto the seat in front so he could see Harry more clearly.

'Your welcome. You should let James do it too, then it doesn't look so odd'

'You mean you don't want people to make the wrong assumption. I actually think it will look worse. James I would say you do it too, but you've got black ones' and I stared at my feet.

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'Captain A would look quite good on the-' but I grabbed Harry's art book and smacked him in the face before he could finish.

'Now that was just mean. You're mean James Cobb'

'Aww darling'

'Shut up'

'No'

'Slut'

'Man whore'

'Slag'

'Bitch'

'Jerk'

'Idiot'

'Dead beat'

'Dork'

'Git'

'Lard ass limey'

'Oooh haha' Johnny laughed, not being offended in the slightest, Harry was laughing, shaking his head in that I-can't-believe-these-weirdo's-are-my-friends way and I just smiled. The three of us do that all the time, surprisingly it had t has settled many fights, as it makes you forget why you were annoyed.

The best person to do the one word insult game with is Harry. He will murder you with the stuff that comes out of his mouth. It's a bit worrying.

Just shows that you can't go on appearances or first impressions. Not with any of us anyway.

The bus pulled up, and it was the stop, which wasn't far from my house so I got the other's attention and we got off the bus.

Once home, I dug in my pockets for my keys. Thankfully I had remembered to pick them up this morning. Opening the door and stepping inside, everyone put their bags down on the mini table.

'Hello? Anyone in?' I yelled and we walked through the house 'you guys want anything to drink?' I asked and I entered the kitchen, having gotten the reply 'yes'. This was where I found a whole group of people.

'Hey guys' Dad asked, Harry and Johnny said hi to the group. 'How was school?'

'Yeah it was good. We spent most of Sociology with little kids' I said and prepped the other's drinks. I knew what they drank round here, neither asks for any different. It was a Coke for Johnny and Apple Juice for Harry.

'Why little kids?' Ariadne asked and I handed the guys their drinks.

'We're doing Child Services and Therapy. It's sounds scary'

'Jamesy's good with kids. Not surprised, since he still is one'

'Yeah, that little girl didn't want you to go. What was her name? Molly?'

'Yes but she was nice, she kept reading me stories. I didn't have the heart to tell it was meant to be the other way round. That other one was horrible: he kept pinching me'

'Only you James would get beaten up by a kid' Eames said and I raised an eyebrow.

'I didn't get beaten up. Dad, when's dinner?'

'It should be about an hour and a half' Dad replied and I turned to the others.

'We're going to watch some TV upstairs. And if you hear really bad singing, it's Johnny' I said and he poked his tongue out.

'James if you want your Supernatural series, Phillipa's got them' and I swivelled back to my Dad.

'Why? And why wasn't I consulted?' I registered sniggering from behind my back. Quite literally.

'She sick, and so she raided your DVDs having watched all of hers' and I let out a noise of frustration.

'This wouldn't happen if it was the other way round'

'You hardly like any of her films' Dad _helpfully _stated.

'True, but not the point!… Is she contagious?' I asked cautiously and Dad rolled his eyes.

'No, she just feels generally under the weather – SO BE NICE' he said louder as I turned to head out and up the stairs.

Be nice? Nice? She's my sister. We're close, but sometimes sibling territory gets the better of us.

I pushed open the door to Phillipa's room carefully, the others were right behind me. Phillipa was sitting on her bed watching what looked like CSI, with apt concentration.

'Sis' and she smiled, pressing pause on the remote and the sound went from the room.

'What's up?' she asked. She looked tired and a little ill – perhaps paler than usual. Her hair was in a messy ponytail - with her side fringe knocking into her eyes - and she was in lazy clothes. Only my sister would get dressed for lying in bed.

'Me? I'm never better. You okay?' I asked, moving into the room when it looked like she wasn't going to hurt me. She may be a girl but when she's angry – watch out.

'Yeah, bit queasy. Hey guys' she said nodding to Harry and Johnny. It used to annoy me that Phillipa got on with people in my year, but she was three years older than me so in some ways it was quite cool.

'At least you're not dying'

'As if you would care James' she said with a little grin.

'Hey! Of course I would' I had fallen into her trap.

'Yeah, yeah. What do you want?'

'To see if you're alright' and when Phillipa gave me a pointed look, which screamed liar, I added 'can I have my Supernatural DVDs back?' I asked and she pointed to the end of the bed. 'What series you on now?'

'Three. It's your fault you got me watching it. And I knew it - care about me my ass. Anything happen at school, any gossip I should know?'

'Apparently some 9th grader got pregnant by a guy in our year' and Phillipa made a face.

'Ew. That's not even legal. Anything else?' my sister loves gossip and rumour, but she also likes knowing the facts. She herself isn't a gossip, just likes to hear others.

'It's probably not true either' Harry said who had a hand on the golden globe at the end of Phillipa's bedstead.

'Yeah, you know what rumours are like…' said Johnny.

'I remember hearing about you and a run in with the police?' Phillipa asked to Johnny who coughed.

'If you call getting stopped for not watching where you're riding your bike, a _run in _then yeah I have'

'Kids these days' Phillipa said in her old lady voice and we laughed. There was a bit of silence and then Phillipa looked at Harry. 'Does he still have a crush on Arthur?'

I thought I was going to drop the collection that had cost me $50 in total. I glared at my sister; this didn't seem to bother her. She had picked up Dad's stubbornness and his I-don't-care-you're-going-to-do-what-I-say.

'Do you read my blog too?' I asked resignedly, this was getting a bit tiring.

'No, it's just obvious' she said and left it at that.

'Obvious how?' I said, a bit angry at this point.

'I'm your sister James, I pick things up. I shouldn't worry: it will be gone soon. You want to know why I know?'

'Why? You're a girl?' I asked, shifting from foot to foot.

'No, not just that. But I used to have a crush on Eames… want to know what happened?' and I waited, there was a pause 'I grew up. Simple as' she said and curved her fringe out of her eyes.

'Eames?' I asked, smirking slightly.

'Did you listen?'

'Yes' I said quickly.

'Good. Now go away' and we were ushered out, I pulled the door to and went into my room. I flopped down on the bed in a star shape, Harry sat on the window seat and Johnny wriggled on the beanie bag. I laughed at him.

'You're the only one who uses that thing. I don't think I've sat on it for ages' I muttered leaning up on my elbows and looking between Harry and Johnny.

'You can come and join me if you think you can fit' Johnny said with a wink. I groaned.

'Johnny stop with the innuendo' and I lifted myself back up off the bed. Switching on the TV, I slid the DVD (Season 2) into the slot and picked up the remote, the disc went to the menu screen.

'Episode three 'Bloodlust'' Harry persisted, sitting with his ankles crossed at the end of the seat.

And we watched – two episodes – with a lot of interruption from all of us. Talking about the lines, sets and plot lines.

Harry and I ended up in fits, when we explained to Johnny about our roles in the school musical. For some reason I was elected Director and Harry was Producer, mainly because we didn't want to be up on stage that was last year's musical. Harry had pushed Johnny to take part, saying that he would like to have the _control for once_. I didn't know whether to put the pillow over my head or join in. Johnny then slipped off the beanie bag with a thump.

It was lucky (in a sense) that dinner was ready, as it got us up and moving. We looked a very funny set of teenagers, all red and laughing. Harry looked the soberest of all – and that was saying quite a bit actually.

Dad frowned at me 'Are you quite finished? We could hear you from down here' which unfortunately made Phillipa burst into laughter. But then she coughed and groaned, muttering that laughing hurt her sides.

'Yes, sorry' I said, 'What's for dinner? My insides are beginning to swirl'

'Chinese braised beef'

'Wicked – alright for you Johnny' and Johnny smirked.

Ten minutes after everyone was sat around the table, drinks were being topped up and chatter echoed easily. I was sat next to Harry and Johnny was opposite. This – unfortunately – meant Arthur was sat next to him. When this had happened, Johnny winked at me and I kept my face as neutral as possible. Of course nobody (apart from Harry and Phillipa) saw this as a problem. Dad, especially, has known the two of them for years, and has probably contributed to most of their dinners.

'What episode did you watch of Supernatural?' Phillipa asked, gesturing to the water decanter so I handed it over and answered.

'Bloodlust'

'Good episode' Phillipa nodded, but got distracted when Ariadne began talking to her. Johnny, however, seemed very intent on keeping Arthur's attention that nearly caused the drop of a serving spoon.

'James, I forgot, I've got your Memento DVD' Johnny stated taking a swig from his glass.

'Memento, that's the Chris Nolan movie isn't?' Dad asked and I nodded.

'Cheers. Finally watched it have you?' I commented and Johnny chuckled lightly.

'It's pretty depressing'

'Yeah – oh Rise of the Dark Knight is coming out next year isn't it?' I asked.

'Yep. I can't wait, he's finally got Bane' Harry said.

'You would, you're all for violence Harry' Johnny mocked.

'Arthur, remember when we saw Dark Knight and the girl next to you jumped at the pencil bit' I laughed and Arthur smirked.

'I've never had someone jump a foot in the air right next to me in a darkened room' he muttered in a pause in his meal.

'Then you've never watched a horror on Halloween with James' Johnny chided and I narrowed my eyes at him.

'Is he really jumpy then?' Eames asked and Phillipa (even though my sister was ill) decided to help the matter.

'Oh yeah, he was shaking like a leaf at the Exorcist'

'That's not fair I was eleven!' I retorted 'I don't mind some horror movies. But some things…'

'Shouldn't be seen on TV' Arthur finished and I nodded in agreement, stabbing at my plate of beef stew.

'The movie Saw four – ' Eames began but Phillip and Dad shut him up.

'Eames' they said in sync and he quietened.

'I love you and everything, but if you make me puke up my dinner – I'll make sure it heads in your direction' Phillipa said with a sweet smile.

'Ever the lovely teenager'

'I do try. Dad can you pass the bowl please'

Everyone slowly finished their meal, I for instance had two servings and so did the others, whereas the adults were topped up with alcohol. I wasn't sure whose idea it was to start telling jokes, but they were getting cruder and lamer by the minute.

'Knock knock' Johnny asked, giggling.

'Who's there?' we asked in unison.

'Ammonia!' Johnny said, keeping a straight face (just).

'Ammonia who?'

'Ammonia little kid!' Johnny said, and laughing went round the table.

'Oh no, Johnny that's terrible…' Harry said, shaking his head with a smile.

'What, you can do better?'

'No, I don't know any good ones'

'Hey! Hey! I got one. Knock, knock!' I said loudly and everyone turned to me.

'Who's there?'

'Ima'

'Ima who?'

'Ima psychiatrist. I'm here 'cause you won't open up!'

That's pretty much what happened for the next ten minutes: bad jokes and stupid stories. Eames gloated that he managed to make Arthur laugh at which my Dad thought it was best we moved from the dining table.

Ariadne went home: she looked really tired. Not long after that, Johnny and Harry left.

'Have a good night _Blondie_' Johnny sang and Harry kicked him lightly in the shin.

'See you and take care of _him_. And if you have to hurt him, please do' I said with a wave to the pair. Harry laughed, shaking his head.

I went back inside and fell onto the sofa next to Phillipa who seemed to have perked up a little throughout the evening. Arthur and Eames were talking about a job in Milan, Arthur saying he knew someone working there. Dad was in the kitchen sorting stuff out.

'So, either of you got any plans for the weekend?' Eames asked, turning to Phillipa and I.

'I'm being dragged to watch the school's production of 39 Steps' I sighed as the thought came flooding back. Harry had insisted I went with him so he wouldn't look like an idiot on his own. The reasons were, one Harry likes plays (like I do to some extent) and two his little sister is in it.

'And I'm going to a picnic in the park'

'How very romantic' I commented and Phillipa nudged me.

'Hey, it wasn't my idea. Besides I don't think six girls count as romantic'

Eames grinned at us 'Do you guys want to-'

'If you invite them to the poker night I'm throwing you out!' Dad's voice carried, and Eames gave a look to the door into the kitchen. Arthur smirked and told Eames he should have known that would be the response.

'You know it's funny the older we get, the better his hearing gets' Phillipa said giggling.

'Can someone tell me what a box of Captain Crunch is still doing in the back of the counter cupboard!' Dad yelled and I slipped further down the sofa.

Arthur caught my eye and winked.


End file.
